VI
The colonel stopped at the corner.
“Get in, García.”
He drove off.
“What’s going on?”
“I think we’ve nailed it, Colonel.”
He told him what he’d done during the day.
“Did you take the rifle?”
“No, I didn’t want to alarm them, Colonel.”
The colonel drove along in silence. He was thinking hard. He took out a cigarette and lit it. He blew the smoke out slowly. He turned down a side street and stopped the car. García turned around, looking for the person following him.
“Why couldn’t you tell me this in the office?”
“Because there we wouldn’t know who’s listening. If the people I suspect are the ones involved in this, they could and probably do have spies in your office, Colonel.”
“Could be. Someone told Manrique that you were on the case.”
“Right.”
“Couldn’t it be the Russians themselves, like you suspected before? And they’re using the opportunity because they think we’ll blame the Chinese.”
“I don’t think so, Colonel. Those Russians know how to organize things. They don’t use local talent like Luciano Manrique or the Toad. This is local. Now it’s clear, the target isn’t the gringos’ president, it’s ours. Using the rumors as their opportunity, Colonel.”
The colonel kept smoking in silence. This notion is spinning around in his head faster than a mouse on his wheel. For all I know he’s trying to figure out which side he should be on.
“What you’re telling me is dangerous, García.”
“That’s why I wanted to tell you where nobody would hear.”
“If it’s true, the people implicated are very high up, very high, indeed. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“And we have to tread very carefully.”
“There’s not much time left, Colonel.”
“No, not much. How do you think they’re planning on carrying it out?”
“Easy. They give police passes to the Toad and the gringo and place them among the guards in the square. They use the rifle.”
The colonel picked up the car radio and spoke. He gave orders for a guard to be placed at the Magallanes Hotel and for the arrest of the gringo, Browning, and the Toad. He also ordered the rifle be confiscated from Browning’s room.
“They probably have other weapons available, Colonel. And even other men.”
“Right.”
“Have to go the top, the tip-top.”
The colonel was thinking.
“You are absolutely sure of your facts?”
“Yes.”
García lit a cigarette. The colonel wants me to be the one to say that I’ll take care of the fat cats, on my own. Out of loyalty. So if things go wrong, they’ll say it was that dumbass García who’s to blame, and they’ll screw me. But they already know it’s me. No orders, nothing.
“It’s probably better not to tell the FBI,” the colonel said, “and definitely not to ask them for help. We need people we can trust.”
“Yes, Colonel.”
“I don’t have anybody I can trust to watch the principals. It’s a very delicate task.”
“For experts, Colonel.”
The colonel glanced at him. A light smile was hovering over his lips. Fucking colonel! He doesn’t want to give the order. And in the meantime, I can play the chump. If he wants me to whack those sonsabitches, he’s going to have to say so. But I don’t have any experience with that kind of thing. They would be proper corpses, and I only know how to make stiffs.
“Ever since Obregón,” the colonel suddenly said.
Yeah. Ever since they blew away General Obregón, the elected president. But to do that, they didn’t make up stories about Outer Mongolia. Toral did it, killed him right there, in front of everybody. Then Toral got whacked. That’s something I can understand. What if they’d drummed up all this bullshit about Hong Kong and Outer Mongolia in those days?
“This is very bad for Mexico,” the colonel said. “We have transformed the Revolution into a system based on laws, and those laws should not be broken. Do you understand what that means, García? A government subject to the rule of law. That’s worth a whole lot more than the lives of a few nutcases.”
That guy in the green Fiat parked over there is the same one who’s been tailing me. Fucking law! And what’s this shit about “We have transformed?” We is a lot of people. This jerk was still hanging on his mother’s teat when there was real shooting going on. And as far as I can tell, he’s still on his mother’s teat and he’s still trying to figure out whose hide’ll yield more whips, or which side of the fan the shit is going to hit. What do these fellows know about making a Revolution, what it was like to be out there dying along those roads?
“A government of laws,” the colonel said. “That is what we must preserve at all cost.”
Sounds to me like he’s practicing his speech for Independence Day. The Revolution hasn’t turned into anything. The Revolution is over and now there’s nothing but fucking laws. And that’s why, no matter where you look, we’re all turning into dumbasses. All of us, one way or another. Although with a lot of grace, as the corrido says. As far as I’m concerned, the professor is the only revolutionary left, because he’s the only one who doesn’t believe in the law. Before, when somebody needed to be whacked, they’d tell it straight, give the order and save the pretty words for their banquets. This fucking colonel is really taking it hard. He’s finding out what it’s like to give birth on Good Friday, as they say: all by himself he’s going to have to find a way. His whole team and his whole laboratory don’t do him a bit of good. Now he’s fucked. All alone, like a woman in labor. And no matter how hard she pushes, the brat doesn’t want to come out.
“Truth is, García, for something like this, I don’t have enough men I can trust.”
“You’ve got a lot of men.”
“Yeah, but this is special. Call me at ten tonight, I might have some orders for you.”
“I wanted to ask for a short leave, Colonel.”
“No dice. You’ve got me thinking about a lot of things, and I have to put some of them in order and check up on others. Call me at ten. I hope you understand that if what you suspect is true, this is one of the most dangerous moments in our history.”